


Keeping it Professional

by glitterprison



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Pitch Perfect 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5748289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterprison/pseuds/glitterprison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ANONYMOUS PROMPTED: Bechloe prompt: beca like never goes to the doctor bc she's scared tbh so her friends force her to go for a checkup and the doctor is Chloe and she ends up going to the doctors place A LOT now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping it Professional

There was a thin line between fear and hate. A line so fine that, sometimes, people had a hard time distinguishing which side of it they were on. Because of this, they weren’t able to figure out if they hated things because they were afraid of them, or if they were afraid of them because of the hate. When it came to going to the doctor, Beca Mitchell was one of those people, and for her, the two separate sides seemed to appear as only one. 

There were multiple things about the circumstances surrounding doctors that Beca Mitchell didn’t like. For instance, she wasn’t a fan of hospital gowns or cold instruments touching her in various, unwanted places, and she absolutely abhorred the nose-burning smell of disinfectant, and the both the look and feeling of needles. Additionally, more than anything, she hated the discomfort of being asked to answer personal questions; answers she, more often than not, liked to avoid thinking about to begin with, even on her own. 

Nonetheless, more than simply being products of hate, these were all things that Beca also _feared_. In her mind, she wasn’t able to pin which emotion came first, but that also wasn’t a thought that mattered. The fact that, outside of the confining walls of Seaside Wellness’ Adult and Family Medicine department, her hatred and fear were quite easy to hide was the important part of this situation — which was exactly how Beca had managed to turn routine checkups into something she avoided like the plague. 

As an adult, it was a fairly simple feat to disguise such a dread as simple detest, or the activity a nuisance. With a job as demanding and inflexible as Beca’s could be, using the excuse ‘she had no time’ to actually _go_ to the doctor was never a challenge. But when a few days of coughing fits and sniffling turned into a nearly month-long illness, Beca’s roommates decided it was time for them to step in and do something. 

The conversation was brought up intervention-style, the day they made a doctors appointment for Beca and quite literally _forced_ her to go. First, they’d sat her down next to a small garbage can and a box of tissues, each taking turns speaking their mind.

“You’ve had that cough and runny nose for _weeks_ , now.” One of them said.

The other echoed her words and added, “avoiding help isn’t good for your heath, so, we took the initiative to find a doctor _for_ you. Your appointment’s today at 3pm.”

“Guys.” Beca started, “that’s kinda sweet, but totally unnecessary.” The brunette sniffled and thickly coughed. “Really, I’m fine.”

However, in the end, no matter the excuses Beca provided nor how many times the three went back and forth, the two other girls’ opinions outweighed the one belonging to her own tiny self.

“I’m _literally_ going to kill you guys!” Beca declared, feet swinging helplessly as she was lifted by either arm and brought out to the car. There, Beca very reluctantly relented, an intense look of misery on her face as she was put in the middle of the backseat and endured the ride to the doctor’s office in silence.

“I hate you both,” were the words that finally broke the noiseless air when her roommates pushed her towards the counter to check in, the polite secretary behind the counter assuring Beca that they’d call her back within a few minutes.

“Beca?” A nurse promptly called less than ten minutes later, and as she stood, Beca made sure to shoot a evil glare over her shoulder at her two ‘friends’ left sitting behind. They waved. almost condescendingly, in return before exchanging a triumphant high-five.

Beca couldn’t remember the last time she’d stepped foot inside an exam room, though the familiar, crippling feeling that reminded her why she so desperately tried to avoid them was quick to make an appearance. While small was something Beca had always been, nothing made her _feel_ quite as tiny as those stark white walls, or the prominent box of sharps that hung upon them next to a counter full of bandaids, cotton balls and latex-free gloves. And then, there was the exam table that she just _had_ to fucking sit on. _Why not the chair?!_ Her brain was practically screaming. It wasn’t like she was dying; she would’ve been perfectly damn capable, and would’ve much rather preferred, to ditch the flimsy, scratchy paper and sit in a normal chair. 

“Dr. Beale will be in to take a look at you shortly.” The nurse said after checking her vitals, interrupting Beca from her thoughts. Nodding with a forced, close-lipped smile, she unenthusiastically replied, “great.” _If I’m lucky,_ Beca thought as the woman left, _this doctor those idiots signed me up with will at least be a girl._  

And. What. A. Fucking. Girl. She. Was.

This time, when Beca found herself in another fit of awful coughing, it wasn’t the gross mucus caught in her throat that prevented her from breathing. It was this _doctor’s_ bright red hair, and the way her ponytail swayed as she walked in the door. It was her piercing blue eyes and the way they connected with Beca’s when she looked up from the electronic chart in her hand to introduce herself. It was the ever so slight, but _captivating,_ way she pulled her stylus from her lab coat pocket while her adorable features contorted into a look of sympathy at the sound that left Beca’s mouth. Leave it to her friends to make her an appointment with the most attractive woman she’d ever seen while she was currently in a state of both looking and feeling like death.

Lucky for Beca, said woman was a hell of a lot more than just her looks. Whatever gold she prescribed her with cleared her head within a week… of congestion, that is. The medicine did absolutely nothing to rid the way Beca’s mind was clouded with repetitive thoughts Dr. Beale.

Ultimately, the image Beca had of the redhead in her mind prevented her from thinking straight about anything and everything else (not that Beca ever thought _straight_ , anyway). So, she did the most logical thing she could think of and booked another appointment for two weeks out, and once that one occurred, made excuses for which she _had_ to go back and see Dr. Beale again and again after that.

They were ridiculous reasons, ones that at first made Dr. Beale wonder whether Beca was some type of hypochondriac. However, check up after check up revealed that not even this was the case. Beca recoiled at the mere mentioning of blood work, or anything involving needles for that matter, and whatever ’symptoms’ she feigned on occasion weren’t ever even the slightest bit believable. By her fourth visit in nearly six months, it became obvious that Beca’s interest in her doctor went beyond whatever medical advice was exchanged within their appointments together. She wanted _more,_ and at this point, Dr. Beale was well aware of it.

To an extent, Beca was at a bit of a disadvantage when it came to ‘playing it cool’ around the other woman. Each time they met, it grew increasingly harder for her to hide her growing feelings behind her awkward stammers and eye aversions as she frequently lost her way and train of thought every time Dr. Beale moved or spoke in a way she found to be unbelievably cute. Plus, Chloe Beale was no stranger to flirtation, after all, even if she did happen to take on the persona of a space cadet from time to time.

“Beca.” Dr. Beale said warmly as she entered the exam room on that fourth appointment, shutting the door behind her. “We meet again.” There was a glint in her eyes that suggested a small bit of uncertainty, one that Beca hadn’t seen before. Her tone of voice did not hold any bit of surprise either, as if she’d known long before checking her schedule of patients for that day that Beca would be on the list. Instead of continuing with her usual opening question, prompting whichever patient she had at that time to tell her what they thought was wrong, Dr. Beale folded her arms and leaned back against the counter, waiting for Beca to initiate conversation instead.

“Yessss.” Beca said, dragging out the latter part of the word, the rest of the sentence she’d prepared herself to say dying on her lips. A moment passed and the two locked eyes, an inevitable smile full of five thousand different emotions ultimately finding its way to Beca’s face. She looked to the side and Dr. Beale shifted, pulling a real pen and a business card out of her pocket. Using the tablet she was holding as a makeshift clipboard, she flipped the card over and jotted down a number — her _personal,_ cell phone number — before stepping forward and handing the card over to Beca.

“I can’t be your doctor anymore.” She told her, breaking the lingering silence between them. Head immediately turning, Beca’s face fell. “What? _Why?”_  

Dr. Beale waved the card in front of Beca’s eyes until she took it out of her hand. _“Oh.”_ Beca realized as she looked down at the small card, her cheeks suddenly hot and pink.

“I’ll go ahead and check the board,” Dr. Beale, who was apparently no longer Beca’s doctor and now, perhaps, maybe just _Chloe_ , said, “and see if I can get one of my colleagues in here to check you out.”

“I mean, I’ve never been opposed to _you_ checking me out,” Beca said quickly, half teasing. Chloe tried to contain her smirk and shook her head.

“Maybe over dinner, or something? You know, not here.” She shot back with the same type of playful banter, turning towards the door.

“Right. I get it.” Beca shrugged, watching as Chloe made one last glance back at her over her shoulder, adding, “Something totally professional.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do you have your own minific prompt requests? Send them to me at glitterprison.tumblr.com! And be sure to check the page - I write for more characters than just Beca and Chloe! Thanks for reading :)


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